Whisper's Story
by The-Purple-Fox
Summary: Whisper was nearly two years old when she met Bold. What happened in the meantime?
1. Chapter 1

The vixen knew her time was near. She crept between the awkwardly twisted headstones, leaving deep paw-prints in the saturated soil, knowing it would not be long until she would skip nimbly through the undergrowth again without the burden of unborn cubs dragging on her belly. Her destination lay at the opposite side of the churchyard, underneath a sprawling horse-chestnut tree. She squelched through the carpet of fallen leaves and wriggled underneath the thick ground ivy into the earth she had returned to barely a fortnight earlier. She lay down on the bare, sandy soil and curled her tail around herself. It began to rain, large thunderspots rattling noisily off the ivy leaves, a noise that soon lulled the tired vixen to sleep.

A short time later, a second fox, a big dog with a fresh scar running down his left cheek, approached the entrance to the earth. His chestnut coat was soaked through and hung in long spikes, revealing his dark under fur that kept his skin warm and dry despite the deluge. He could smell the vixen sleeping within and hesitated. Recently, his affectionate, compliant mate had morphed into a barrel-shape harpy and he had taken to tip-toeing around her finer feelings, the boundaries of which shifted daily. He shook his coat vigorously, spraying the worst of the rainwater across the soggy ground, and crept inside, keeping his head low.

The vixen opened one eye.

'What do you want?' she growled sleepily at him.

'To sleep,' the dog fox replied with a little grunt.

'You're soaking wet.'

'It's chucking down, Fern!'

'Come on Spencer,' she grumbled, waking a little more, 'you're dripping all over the floor and making it muddy.'

'I can't help it – its tipping down out there and I shook off what I could...'

'Quit yapping.' Fern snarled, cutting her mate off mid-moan. 'You should be grateful that I've even let you in here the way I'm feeling. You should be grateful that I'm not sending you back out there to find me some food... save me from dragging myself around, reduced to chasing worms...'

'Aww, are the cubs getting you down?' Spencer asked, grooming her fur in that hard-to-reach place just behind her left ear.

Instantly furious, the vixen shifted position, preparing to spring up at her mate, 'Will you just...!' she snapped, then faltered as her millimetre-short fuse extinguished itself in a little buzz of pleasure that zipped down her spine. 'Keep doing that...' she said, sinking back down onto the slightly damp soil.

/-/

Springtime crept softly through the town. So softly that winter barely noticed its arrival and decided to slather copious amounts of snow on the gently greening landscape. True to her word, Fern had ousted Spencer from the earth. The dog fox crouched under the ivy, sheltering the best he could from the freezing white flakes. He watched, fascinated, as they floated to earth like misshapen butterflies. Spencer had never seen snow before and tried to snap the flakes out of the air. He enjoyed the feel of the cold wetness on his tongue and began singling out particularly juicy looking specimens.

'Having fun?' Sounded a harsh cry from atop a grey headstone a few feet away from the fox.

Spencer paused and turned to face the crow that had dared to disturb him. 'Yes, thank you.' He replied curtly.

'I thought a lively young fox like you would have cubs to feed.'

'Not yet.' Spencer grinned, snapping at the next flake that drifted past his nose, showing the irritating bird how little he cared for what he said.

'You'll regret wasting this time when you should be finding food for your mate.' The crow chattered, fluffing up its black plumage. 'I've already brought up a family, and I know how much time it takes up. You'll be exhausted, just mark my words...' He shut his eyes, satisfied he'd imparted some wisdom to the youngster.

Spencer took a step closer. The novelty of snowflake-catching had worn off and the cold had begun to seep into his paws. 'Thank you Crow – you've been very helpful.'

Confused by the vulpine gratitude, the crow opened one eye just in time to see the fox's fangs rushing towards him before the world went dark and smelly.

Spencer hoped Fern would appreciate a crow-shape morsel.

Fern...

Fern had not told Spencer exactly why he was not welcome anymore, or even how long he should stay away. He trotted back to the earth entrance, leaving little pawprints in the snow which had already ceased to fall.

As usual, Spencer paused before going inside, checking to ensure he had not been followed. He dropped the dead bird and listened, straining his ears trying to guess what was going on inside the earth. He was not sure, but he though he heard the tiny mewling of a newborn cub.

'Fern?' Spencer called quietly. 'Fern? You okay?'

'Come in, darling.' Fern replied softly. It had been a while since Spencer had been called that. He picked up the feathered peace offering and slipped underground into the darkness and the overwhelming odour of milk and newborns.

Spencer dropped the still-warm crow under Fern's nose and exclaimed; 'The cubs are here!'

'They are indeed,' Fern agreed, tearing into the crow, 'as if I hadn't noticed...' she muttered under her breath.

Spencer sniffed at the tiny cubs huddled together on the bare earth. He counted four individuals. 'How many girls and boys?' he asked.

'Three daughters and one son.' Fern smiled back, licking their heads as they suckled.

Spencer grinned and swelled with pride. 'I'll find some more food.' He promised as he turned and left the earth. He trotted through the undergrowth as if he owned it, which was true for the time being at least. Thoughts of his newborn family filled his head, plans for teaching them how to hunt and the wonder in their eyes as they saw the sun for the first time. The dual carriageway that marked the boundary of Spencer and Fern's territory loomed ahead, but the thought of quarrelling with the neighbours didn't faze him. Fern deserved to eat rabbit tonight. Spencer was easily the biggest fox in the city and had earned a formidable reputation and a lot of respect, despite only being a yearling.

Feeling quite full of himself, Spencer trotted out onto the tarmac and completely failed to notice the car until he was blinded by the headlights.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The driver saw the fox's eyes reflect greenish-white in her headlamps. The animal froze and stared mesmerised at the lights that rushed towards him, only wheeling around to run out of the way when the car was barely a few feet away.

The squeal of tyres on the slippery road almost drowned out the sickening thud of mammal hitting metal.

The driver cut the engine and got out of the car, reluctantly searching the gutter for the remains of the unfortunate animal. She spotted the inert form about fifty yards away.

'You poor thing,' she murmured.

Spencer lay in a world of pain. His brain rummaged around, trying to get a handle on the situation and he remembered the car. He had seen cars before and had always managed to escape them. Every time except this one. Now, for the first time in his short life, he had others depending on him and he stopped to take a lingering gaze at a car flying towards him twice as fast as he can run.

Could run.

Spencer sighed a little and began to drift away from the twisted yard of fur that constituted his body.

The driver squinted at the stricken fox and wondered if she really did see it breathe. She walked carefully towards the animal, keeping it in the centre of the torch beam, her cautious footsteps breaking up the otherwise silent night.

Seconds later, the sound, smell and after opening one eye, the sight of a rapidly-approaching human instantly dragged every shred of Spencer's diffusing consciousness into perfect alignment. Overwhelmed by the urge to escape, Spencer dragged his belly off the tarmac, figured out which of his limbs was the least badly dented and leaped wonkily away.

The human followed; worried by the way the fox's hind leg was swinging.

Muttering vulpine curses, Spencer carried on through the unkempt grass. Blinded by agony and terror, he cast about, looking for an escape route, but nothing seemed obvious and the human was gaining on him. A molehill collapsed under his weight and sent him sprawling in the soil, his hopes of escaping taking a nosedive into the mud with him. Spencer turned to face his pursuant with his teeth bared and ears laid flat against his head. He had never been so close to a human, nor had he seen a fox escape alive after so close an encounter.

The woman saw the fox's teeth gleaming in her torchlight, appearing far sharper and more numerous that she had anticipated. She decided that a pace or two backwards was quite close enough...

Spencer saw the human back away and this gave him a fresh surge of hope. A few yards to the side, he spotted a bramble patch that had previously been a beech hedge. He surmised that if he could take the human by surprise, he could reach the safety of the thorns well before she caught up with him again. Spencer kept an eye on the human and fought to get his breath back. It hurt. The human took half a pace forward, which was Spencer's cue to make a dash for it. He crashed into the spiny foliage barely a split second before the human who baulked at the prickly shrubbery. She loitered a little longer, then turned and walked back to her car.

Alone, Spencer let out a long sigh of relief and turned his attention to his right hind leg. It was a strange shape, but the skin was intact. Every move he made sent a fresh bolt of agony through his body, but he knew he could not stay under the hedge. Some other fox, another dog, had been using it as a den, despite it laying within the well-marked boundaries of his territory. Spencer was in no shape for a fight so all he could do was creep away as carefully as three legs would allow. He turned around, belly flat to the floor, and headed out the way he came in. He poked his slim muzzle out from underneath the lowest branches and picked up a scent that made his blood run cold.

The human was coming back.

The only reason he knew of for humans coming back to foxes was to finish them off after bungling the first attempt. Spencer froze, hoping his ginger fur would blend seamlessly with the winter brown of the remaining beech leaves. The human stopped barely two paces away from him and began rustling something. The fox shut his eyes and thought of his mate and cubs, waiting patiently in their underground home.

The human walked away. Confused, Spencer stayed rooted to the spot. He had grown up among humans, watching them from a safe distance and trying to fathom their behaviour. He wondered if the human had gone to fetch one of those little clicking things as he had so often seen them do when he lived under a garden shed and spent his days sunning himself on the roof. They were harmless and seemed to excite the humans, so he let them have their fun, leaping away only when bored. Spencer wondered glumly if he would ever snooze on warm roofing felt ever again, but he was satisfied with his conclusion. He roused himself, gritting his teeth as the movement shifted the fractured bones in his leg, continuing his painfully slow journey home. Over the scent of decomposing foliage, Spencer picked up an inviting aroma. Spencer knew cat food when he smelt it and slunk out of his hideaway to investigate. Every fibre of his vulpine survival instinct told him to keep walking, but he was hungry and it smelled so good...

--

Fern was exhausted. The morning was getting old and she had eaten nothing since the impudent crow hours ago. The cubs had suckled her dry and were now sleeping restlessly. One of the vixens was significantly smaller than the others, she was named Petal. Small, fragile and unlikely to survive. The little dog seemed to like Chestnut, named after the tree he was born under and his bigger sister suited Scarlet, although now Fern wondered if she too would survive long enough to grow into a red coat. The third vixen had barely made a sound and was named Whisper.

A shadow fell over the entrance of the earth. Fern looked up into the face of her mate and barely recognised him through the mask of pain and exhaustion. Spencer gave Fern's muzzle a cursory lick before he collapsed on the sandy earth.


	3. Chapter 3

Fern watched her injured mate sleep. He lay on the ground, sprawled like a cub, illuminated slightly by the thin shaft of morning sunshine the filtered through the ivy that grew over the earth's entrance. She sniffed gingerly at Spencer, picking up scents of brambles and cat food. There was no trace of blood, but his hind leg was a very strange shape and it did not look like he would be able to walk on it anytime soon, let alone hunt, cubs or no cubs. For the time being at least, Fern was on her own.

Slowly, Fern stood up. Robbed of their warmth, the cubs began mewling. One by one she tenderly nosed them in the direction of their father, where they snuggled into his fur and dozed off again. Fern's legs felt a little unstable under her, only just about able to support her weight, weak as she was after giving birth. She had no choice but to leave the earth to find something to eat. She did not have to look far. Buried in a shallow grave a few steps from the earth lay a slightly dismembered rabbit, one of many caches of food she had made during her pregnancy. Fern scraped the top layer of soil away and pulled at the furry morsel, which had a lot of meat left on it. It smelt rather more strongly than it had a fortnight ago and needed a vigorous shake to get the worst of the soil off the fur. A number of worms suddenly found themselves in the sunlight and tried to escape, but the fox was too quick and helped herself to starters before she tore into the rabbit. Feeling much stronger and somewhat bolder, Fern walked carefully towards the edge of the churchyard and the pond where she intended to slake her thirst. As it was now broad daylight, Fern kept a lookout for humans.

And the cat.

The vicious silver tabby toured the churchyard several times a day, amusing himself by pouncing on small birds and taunting them with his claws as they vainly tried to escape with broken wings. The cat knew that foxes lived in the Churchyard and often sat near the entrance to the earth, getting closer each day. There was no sign of the animal as Fern lapped at the murky pond water. Three large goldfish swum away from the predator, but Fern had no interest in aquatic fare. She only had ears for the tell-tale crashing of a human roaming around in the vicinity. Fern knew she was quite safe as long as the human did not turn the corner of the church building. She listened as the footsteps drew nearer, waiting until the last possible moment before disappearing in a trice. Hugging the perimeter wall, where the grass grew longest, Fern crept quickly back to the earth.

'Where do you think you're going?'

Fern froze. It was the cat.

'Home.' Fern stated firmly. The cat was unmoved.

'This is my home,' the cat hissed. 'You have no right to be here.'

'I was born here.' Fern pointed out. 'Just like my mother and her mother before her. This is one of the oldest fox territories in the city.'

The cat gave a derisive snort. 'Foxes don't belong in the city. They should be in the countryside, being hunted by humans for sport.'

Fern bridled at this comment, but held her temper. This cat was not worth losing an eye over.

'I know why you want to get back into that stinking hole,' the cat smirked. 'You've got brats in there.'

'My family is none of your concern.'

'They are while they're on my patch,' the cat said. 'The ratty little creatures look just like vermin to me.'

'Foxes aren't vermin.'

'You eat rubbish, live in a hole and annoy humans. Sounds like vermin to me.'

'I've never annoyed the humans here.'

'Only because I'm constantly clearing up behind you filthy animals,' the Cat said derisively. 'And now I've had enough.' The cat stood and faced Fern nose-to-nose. 'So remove your brats from my patch or face the consequences.'

'But my cubs are less than a day old!' Fern pleaded. 'They can't be moved for weeks!'

'Like I care,' the cat sneered. As he turned to go, the cat paused to urinate on the ivy that covered the entrance to the earth.

Fern glared at the droplets on the foliage, willing them to dry up before her eyes. They did not. There was a second entrance to the earth the other side of a jutting out piece of wall, but it had not been used for some time and Fern was unsure of the current whereabouts of the human. She peered around the stonework and saw him picking litter out from underneath the holly bush, exactly where the second entrance was hidden. Satisfied with his work, the human straightened up to his full, intimidating height and turned towards Fern, who ducked out of sight.

Steeling herself, Fern held her breath as she crawled through the leaves, inevitably smearing her coat with the offensive liquid. Once inside the tunnel, she rolled in the dirt floor, trying to rid herself of the stink.

'Fern?' Spencer called, 'Are you okay?'

Fern shook herself, sending little flecks of dust up into the air. 'I'm fine – just had a little chat with our feline neighbour. He seems to think we're intruding on his patch and that he can drive us out.'

'He does have a point.' Spencer muttered.

'Rubbish!' Fern exclaimed, 'My mothers have used this earth since time began.'

'Who told you that?'

'My mother.'

Spencer chuckled. 'And I suppose you're going to tell our cubs the same?'

'Of course,' Fern smiled. 'They need to have some pride in their history.'

'Assuming they have a future.' Spencer added ruefully.

Fern stepped closer to the cubs and sniffed them as they slept peacefully against the warm fur of their father's belly.

'They're all still alive, which is better than some. I gave them names while you were away.' Fern began nosing the tiny cubs away from Spencer, inevitably waking them. Their piercing little cries were soon quietened when they realised that more milk was available.

'I don't envy you.' Spencer remarked. 'They've got some power in those jaws already.'

'If you hadn't let yourself get run over then you wouldn't have needed to find that out.' Fern snapped.

Spencer laid his head on his paws glumly. 'I didn't mean to.'

'So that makes it alright then?' Fern challenged. 'I have to find food for both of us as well as feed the cubs because you fancied a game of chicken with a car.'

'Come on Fern,' Spencer pleaded. 'I was only crossing the road to hunt rabbits for you...'

'And that was such a success...' Fern interrupted crossly. 'Just shut up and keep your pathetic whining to yourself.'

Spencer tried to stand, to move closer to Fern and nuzzle her as she lay curled protectively around the cubs, but his broken leg sent a fierce bolt of pain through his body every time he moved it. Whimpering a little, Spencer lay down again with his injured leg stretched out behind him. In the gloom, he caught a glimpse of the expression of utter disdain Fern regarded him with. Spencer laid his head on the sandy floor and tried to block out the oozing feeling that he was a complete and utter failure.


	4. Chapter 4

Fern was confused. Every day for almost a fortnight, she had emerged from the earth to find something edible deposited on the ground outside. Today it was a mangled hen blackbird. Fern picked it up and carried it inside for Spencer.

'Smells of cat again.' He remarked, biting the head off and gulping it down in one.

'I don't know what that cat's up to,' Fern replied. 'If he wants us to leave, why is he bringing us food?'

'If we could catch him, we could ask him.'

'I'd rather catch myself a meal instead,' Fern snorted and left the earth abruptly.

Spencer looked at the cubs, which looked back at him with their newly opened, cloudy blue eyes. 'It's just you and me now, kids.'

The high wall surrounding the churchyard where the pair of foxes lived had so far proved insurmountable to the vixen in the throes of new motherhood. However, Fern's diligently collected food store was now exhausted and she was faced with a straightforward choice – vault the wall or starve.

One portion of the wall was somewhat lower than the rest and Fern set her sights on it. She trotted back and forth a few times, warming up her out-of-condition limbs, paused to listen for any activity on the other side and cleared the stonework in a single bound

The street was deserted. The clipping of Fern's claws competed for volume with the breeze rustling the beech hedge. A bag of greasy chips coated in dubious red sauce lurking under the dormant vegetation made a welcome meal and gave Fern the impetus to embark on her first tour of the territory in a fortnight. She headed north towards the canal where the rats lived, a popular spot for itinerant homeless foxes taking their chances in the city. Sure enough, a stranger patrolled the water's edge. Hackles raised, Fern skirted downwind of the intruder and sniffed at the breeze, trying to catch a useful scent. The vixen relaxed a little when she recognised the animal as her brother, Swift. She barked a greeting and three rats exploded out of a litter bin and headed for a broken drain cover. Fern wasted no time felling the slowest while Swift paddled through the murky water to greet his sister, who he had not seen since before the mating season.

'Living in the old patch, I take it?' Swift grinned.

'In the old den.' Fern replied.

'What about Spencer?' Swift enquired.

Fern narrowed her eyes a little. 'His face has healed up, but I don't think he'll lose the scar any time soon.'

Swift looked at his paws. 'I've said I was sorry – how was I supposed to know you knew him?'

'It's just the way you are,' Fern shrugged. 'Attack first and think later.'

'Father thought before attacking once, didn't he?' Swift pointed out. 'He never did it again, did he?'

Fern gazed at the water. 'I try not to think about Mother and Father.'

'You should.' Swift stated. 'You should tell your cubs about them too.'

'Have you got any cubs?' Fern asked, briskly changing the subject.

'Yes,' Swift smiled. 'Two dogs and five vixens.'

'Seven? You'll be busy,' Fern smiled, 'I stopped at four – three vixens and a dog.'

'So how come you're out and about already?' Swift asked, 'surely Spencer can manage to feed you by himself?'

Fern sighed, 'I think he would have been more than equal to the task had he not got himself run over. He can't move, let alone hunt. He's keeping the cubs warm while I'm out and about.'

'Do you think he'll get over it or will you have to hunt for him forever?'

'I don't know Swift,' Fern mumbled, 'I just can't think that far ahead.'

Swift blinked. To offer help did not even cross his mind – he could only think of his own families' survival and his part in that. Fern did not expect any different.

'Do you remember that old vixen we saw get hit behind the supermarket?' Swift asked.

'The one with the white ears?' Fern asked.

'Yes, I saw her a few weeks ago,' Swift said proudly. 'She was walking a bit strangely, but she was still getting around and she's got no mate feeding her.' Pausing for a moment, Swift wondered if his effort at making his sister feel better had been successful. 'If she's okay, then Spencer's got a good chance with you looking after him.'

'I have to get back.' Fern said and picked up the dead rat.

'See you soon!' Swift barked after her. 'Best of luck with the cubs and hope Spencer gets better!'

Fern turned and blinked at her brother, but he was already paddling his way back across the canal.

When Spencer was alone with the cubs, he felt duty-bound to stay awake and keep an eye on them. At two weeks old, their infant personalities were beginning to emerge. Scarlet delighted in winning play fights with her sisters even though only Whisper fought back and Petal preferred to crawl away from confrontation. All Chestnut wanted was the light at the end of the entrance tunnel.

Spencer reached a forepaw towards his son to pull him away from the tunnel entrance. Had she been there, Fern would have let him wander further afield as she could move further than Spencer's pitiful few inches. Before he could reach his son, the cub let out a tiny panicked squeal and squirmed towards his father. A second later a shadow fell across the earth entrance. This usually heralded Fern's return with food, but Chestnut never ran away from his mother. Spencer craned his neck and sniffed.

Cat.

The cat was coming into the earth.

Spencer glanced at the cubs and realised that he could only rescue one of them if he made a hasty retreat through the back, leaving him with one possible course of action if he was to preserve his whole family.

Hauling himself upright, Spencer ignored the pain in his hind limbs and lurched towards the entrance tunnel. He jammed himself in the opening and barked.

The cat hissed in reply. He was going nowhere without a fight.

'What are you doing in my earth?'

'Doing what the humans are too dumb to manage for themselves – evicting vermin.'

'Maybe the humans don't want us to leave.' Spencer grinned. 'Maybe they like us. Maybe they like us more than they like you.'

'Impossible,' the cat sneered. 'I'm their pet. They let me in their house and sleep on their bed.'

'You mean they like to keep you where they can see you.'

The cat began to realise that its chances of winning the argument were diminishing rapidly and it was time to change tack.

'I don't want you here,' he hissed.

'I don't care.' Spencer sneered. 'We're going nowhere.'

'In that case I'll rip you to shreds here then start on your ratty little brats.'

Spencer boiled. 'You couldn't rip your way out of a wet paper bag.'

The cat's hackles rose and it shifted its feet. Spencer continued.

'Losing your nerve little kitty?' He sneered, 'Better run along back to the basket of toys your master bought you.'

Enraged, the cat spat at the fox and lashed out with a razor-clawed paw. Spencer was ready and caught the leg neatly in his jaws and bit hard. The cat screamed and flailed wildly with its free paw, hitting nothing but the earth wall where Spencer's ear had been a split second earlier. The fox jerked his head again and again, dragging the cat along too. Something crunched.

Human footsteps approached.

Spencer let go and the cat erupted from the earth, flashing past his master's ankles as the caretaker embarked on a nocturnal search for his pet. Stooping to retrieve his quaking and bleeding pet from underneath a holly bush, he saw the three mauled goldfish stolen from the Church fishpond and discarded outside the foxes' earth.

'Oh Puss, whatever am I going to do with you?' He sighed, cradling his pet in his arms. 'You're supposed to catch mice, not fish and I thought you had given up fighting after your last trip to the vet... surely you haven't forgotten that already?'

If Puss could have replied in a similar manner, he would have assured his master that he would *never* forget his last trip to the vet. Albeit an octave higher than he would have liked...

Instead, the cat allowed himself to be carried home, staring over his master's shoulder. Silhouetted against the bright streetlight, he saw the vixen leap over the Churchyard wall. He shut his eyes and smugly imagined the revenge his master would take on the vulpine invaders.

Fern returned to the earth and was shocked to see blood spilled in the entrance tunnel. Spencer had dragged himself back into the chamber with the cubs, who cowered in a huddle as far from the entrance as they could manage.

'What happened?' Fern gasped.

'The cat tried to attack the cubs – I stopped him in the tunnel.'

'You fought the cat?' Fern asked incredulously. 'But there's not a scratch on you!'

Spencer grinned. 'You know I'm better than that.'

It was the first time he had smiled since the accident. Fern could not help but smile back.

'I caught this for you – you've earned it.'

Spencer tore into the rat as Fern settled down to feed the cubs, coaxing them out of the corner and into the warm fur of her belly. A cold shiver ran down Fern's spine as she realised that had it not been for Spencer's fearless defence of the cubs, the cat would have slaughtered the whole family.

'At least we'll have some peace now the cat's gone.' Fern said.

'For the time being at least.' Spencer muttered.

'I thought you said you killed the cat in the tunnel?'

'No, I only bit his leg,' Spencer admitted. 'I let him go before you arrived.'

Fern was aghast. 'You know when it's healed he'll be back here looking for revenge. He won't give up so easily next time.'

'It was either let him go or risk losing an eye,' Spencer retorted. 'How would you like me blind as well as lame?'

Fern was unmoved. 'You should have killed him.'

Defeated, Spencer laid his head on his paws. 'I know.'

In the pale blue threads of dawn, Fern watched her mate fall asleep. She felt no guilt at her hard line attitude towards the kitty-loving, overgrown cub who had taken the place of her mate, only the sinking feeling that things were going to get worse.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five arrives at last! I know it's been a long time, but I've been... busy...

Enjoy!

* * *

Spencer stood in the entrance of his earth, blinking in the April sunshine. He swayed a little, his injured legs and hips unused to bearing weight after his weeks of convalescing with the care of his devoted mate, Fern. She had provided him with adequate food but she could not bring him what he desperately needed now.

Water.

It had not rained for over a week and the puddles that formed near the earth had dried up. Spencer had resorted to munching the ivy leaves that hung over the entrance to the earth, but Fern had scolded him for depleting the leafy screening and causing noxious smells in the underground chamber. She had a point there.

The pond was not far from the earth, near the perimeter wall, but Spencer still found walking difficult. He had not had cause to think about such things before the accident, but he could have sworn that his hind legs used to be straighter and the same length. The fox knew he was taking a risk by venturing out in the daylight, but his thirst burned a hole in his throat and straight through his senses.

A ring of dry earth surrounded the pond where the water level had been depleted by the relentless sunshine. It was firmer underfoot than it had been yesterday. Spencer lapped at the lukewarm, scummy water and realised he was being watched. A large toad sat in a shady patch of muddy ooze.

'Morning.' The toad croaked.'

Spencer replied in kind. The toad did not interest him – he had learned long ago that toads were not nice to eat.

'Very hot for this time of year,' the toad remarked.

'It is hot,' Spencer agreed, 'it always gets hot after the winter.'

The toad regarded the fox calmly, his jewel-like eyes glistening in the unseasonal heat. 'You're not very old are you?'

'I'm over a year old,' Spencer answered defensively. 'I have my own cubs.'

'That's the trouble with you town foxes,' the toad sighed. 'You're always in such a rush. You rush to find a mate and have cubs before you've even grown up properly.'

'My parents were a year old when I was born.' Spencer argued. 'They brought me and my sister up okay.'

'Where are they now?'

'My father was run over by a car and my mother got stuck in a fence – humans took her away and I never saw her again.'

'That's so sad.' The toad murmured. Spencer wondered if he saw a tear run down the amphibian's cheek.

'Death is always around the corner for a fox in the city.' Spencer told the toad. 'That's why we get on with life while we're young.'

'Kill or be killed?' The toad asked.

'More like kill or run away.' Spencer chuckled. He had been standing for a while now and his thigh was beginning to ache. He had a modicum of respect for the warty amphibian, respect earned through simply surviving in the human's world. Less cautious creatures had a tendency to meet a sticky end before reaching any significant age.

'I never knew my parents either,' the toad mused. 'I crawled out of this pond many seasons ago with a few other toads. They might have been related to me, maybe not. If I see another toad, we're very pleasant and friendly towards each other, not like you foxes. You're always fighting over territory and mates.' The warty animal sighed deeply. 'Why can't you just share and share alike?'

'We're different,' Spencer pointed out. 'We live fast because we die young. We need defined territories because we travel so far while looking for food. We need to be choosy about our mates because we have to be able to work together to teach our cubs how to survive.'

This made little impression on the amphibian. 'Maybe if you lived at a slower pace and were more relaxed about things, you'd live longer.' He grinned a wide, toothless grin. 'Just take it easy and see what happens. You might like it.'

The toad fell silent for a few seconds and closed his jewel-like eyes, letting out a long sigh. To the fox, the little creature appeared to be asleep, so he moved to go.

'Everyone knows you killed the cat.' The toad pointed out, suddenly awakening from his slumber and catching Spencer off-guard.

'I didn't think I did,' he remarked, 'I thought the human took him away.'

'And you know what happens when humans take animals away.' The toad

Spencer blinked. 'What?'

'They never get seen again.' The toad grinned, either oblivious to, or proud of his crashingly tactless remark. This riled the fox, who considered giving the impudent amphibian a piece of his mind, but the beginning of a screech of tyres made him reconsider.

Spencer was already airborne, leaping away from the wall, before it exploded into the churchyard, closely followed by the cab of an articulated lorry, which twisted in the air and landed sideways on top of the startled toad.

From the shelter of a privet hedge, he watched as nothing further happened. The human in the cab seemed quite content to lie on his side, albeit apparently hovering a few inches above the ground. The smell of fresh human food permeated though the air, teasing Spencer's curiosity almost as much as the scent of female fox not very far away.

A female fox that was not his mate.

He emerged from the hedge and saw the vixen staring at the wreckage, panting after outrunning the vehicle, forcing it to swerve and jack-knife in the road. She had leaped over the wall just as the lorry ploughed into it, escaping unharmed.

Which was more than could be said of the human driver or the expired toad.

Like all foxes, Spencer was fiercely territorial and intruders would not be tolerated. He barked a warning at the unwelcome vulpine. Startled, she jumped back and looked in Spencer's direction.

'Spencer?' She questioned. 'I thought you were dead.'

'Evidently not.' He replied

The vixen tried to explain herself. 'Everyone thinks you're dead because they haven't seen you for weeks and Fern has been out getting food for her cubs instead of you.'

'And that gives you the right to invade my territory?'

'My earth was destroyed by humans.' The vixen cried. 'They killed my cubs and my mate has disappeared too.'

'I fail to see how that's my problem.' Spencer remarked, stepping towards the intruder, who crouched in submission, ears folded flat against her head. Frozen to the spot with her jaws agape, she waited until the dog was less than a body's length away before she sprang up and bolted for the perimeter wall at the other side of the churchyard, clearing it in a single leap.

Spencer watched the little russet body disappear with satisfaction. He could now investigate the foodie smells emanating from the vanquished lorry.

The demolished wall proved easy for the three and a half legged fox to negotiate. What he saw on the other side was the closest thing to heaven he could comprehend.

The lorry had been carrying a shipment of chicken curries to a supermarket. The road was strewn with cartons of meat in sweetly spiced sauces that made Spencer salivate until the fur on his chin formed soggy little peaks. He broke one of the cartons further open and gobbled the yellow contents, the squidgy lumps of cold raw chicken only adding to his enjoyment. He picked up one of the less damaged boxes and hopped back to the earth as fast as three legs would carry him.

Fern had been out hunting all night, and it not been a good one. She had found precious little nourishment for herself and the cubs had already suckled the best part of that from her. She did not take kindly to her parasitic mate prodding her awake while stinking of curried pondwater.

'The road is full of food.' He yapped, waking the cubs.

'What about the humans?' Fern asked.

'There's only one and he's laying on the floor.' Spencer thought about the sorry state of the stricken driver. 'I think he's dead,' he added cheerfully.

'Other humans will come to collect him then.' Fern muttered to herself, peering at the sunrise. It was still very early and the dawn chorus was only just beginning to wane. She turned to her mate. 'We had better go and collect what we can while we can.'

Spencer skipped joyfully in the wake of the vixen, his exuberantly uneven gait in stark contrast to his mate, who glided swiftly across the dewy grass. She reached the wall long before the dog, so long that she was on her way back to the earth with a mouthful of naan bread before he had even reached the wall.

Whisper, Chestnut, Scarlet and Petal watched as their parents built up a sizeable mound of food just outside the entrance of the earth. The adult foxes worked quickly, knowing their time would be short. Soon enough, more humans arrived in yellow and white cars with blue flashing lights on top and the foxes returned to the earth to cache their spoils, each parcel of food in a separate place, spread throughout the churchyard, watched by their curious offspring who crowded at the threshold of where the cool, dark underground gave way to the fresh morning air. It carried so many scents, so many alien aromas and so much adventure. In between parcels, Spencer remarked on the scene to his mate.

'Look how curious they are,' he smiled. 'We'll have to take them hunting soon.'

'You mean _I'll_ have to take them hunting.' Fern replied curtly. Spencer looked hurt.

'If it wasn't for me, we wouldn't have all this food now.'

'That was more luck than judgement.' Fern snorted. Annoyed, she retreated to the earth.

Spencer watched her disappear underground. Reluctant to follow, he curled up underneath the ivy, near the entrance. He had just tucked his brush under his chin when Fern shrieked loudly and leaped out of the earth.

'What's the matter?' Spencer called after her. Fern stopped short and turned to her mate, her face a mask of panic.

'Chestnut's gone.'


End file.
